Self-Righteous Suicide
by TheMonarchyOfRoses
Summary: Ponyboy gets in trouble in school for using his first amendment. Ponyboy's teacher says only cowards commit suicide, and they won't be missed. Ponyboy says he cries when angels deserve to die.


I knew I was in deep trouble before any of it even began.

Believe it or not, I'm not talking about a Soc-greaser conflict or misbehaving. Well, maybe it was misbehaving, but it was reasonable. At least to me. I'm not a "rebel without a cause"- I think that's one of the most stupid things to be. You're just trying too hard to prove something out of nothing. I made something today. Something my teacher in school wasn't happy about at all.

Darry would be home in about two hours, and Sodapop in one. I was using this time to not only brace myself for one of the most intense lecture/yelling of my life, but reflect on what got me this pink slip in the first place. Would I run away? No. Would I argue? Not now, anyways. I've already filled that part.

-Flashback of a few hours-

I was in my advanced English Literature class, hearing Mr. Syme ramble on about Romeo and Juliet. I personally thought it was overrated, but I would be a fool to say it wasn't a masterpiece. I was only slightly listening due to the fact I've read it about three years ago. I would occasionally listen in in case he called on me to answer something. I was content with doodling in my notebook, but I decided to listen to the wrong set of words:

"And then she took her own life, dying beside him by stabbing herself with a dagger." He coughed. "It ends with the Montagues and the Capulets ending their feud." The majority of the class seemed a little unsettled by the resolution, but I knew it too well to even bothered. One girl spoke up:

"So the families stop fighting just because their kids died? That's pretty morbid."

Mr. Syme chuckled. "That's understandable. I personally wish that if they were to die, it wouldn't be by suicide, at least. That shows it's justifiable." He coughed into his hand and walked over to his podium, seemingly ready for a brief speech.

"Suicide is the coward's way out of a problem or problems they don't have the courage to face. They think only of themselves, and not about the other people that would be beyond hurt. Nobody has the right to commit suicide. I believe that if you do commit suicide, nobody should really miss you. Because between you and I, if you really want to, you don't deserve God's gift of life."

I had no idea why, but I could feel a burning rage inside of me start to circulate through out my body. I've never felt so upset in school before. Usually I try to ignore opinions I don't agree with, but this was going to far.

"And what would be more tragic? Having a life so _horrible _you consider suicide, or the fact that _"God"_ gave such a horrible life you want to kill yourself?" All eyes were on me. I wasn't really looking for their attention, just Mr. Syme's. Most of the time, I hated it when I was everybody's main focus, but for once, I wanted to be there, no matter how many eyes were burning into me. My teacher's face looked more than displeased. He didn't like it when anyone tried to challenge what he says, especially students.

"Mr. Curtis. Are you saying that suicide is _okay_?"

I shook my head. "Not all the time. But saying it's _never _okay to end your own life is too far. What if someone was terminally ill?"

"They can prolong life, you know, so don't get cocky with me. Now be quiet." He said in a stern voice. As if he was confident he won, he was about to continue with the lesson, but I wasn't going to let him off easy.

"Prolonging life is suspending certain death. And in that time of life, somebody could be in serious pain, and the medicine is only making them endure it longer. Their families get to see them suffer. How is it wrong to want to die then?" I said. I'm not even preparing what I say in my head, it's all just spewing out of my mouth. I was supposed to be good at keeping quiet.

Mr. Syme was getting angrier. He was going to write me up for insubordination, no doubt, but I knew him; he was going to prove his point before this battle was over.

"Like I said before, Mr. Curtis, what about the individual's family? Why should one person make all of them suffer?" He got out a pink slip and filled it as he spoke, not making any eye contact.

"You said it would be selfish of that individual. But making them live against their will is selfish on the family's part. They get to be in unimaginable pain, day after day, knowing that there was no chance of being saved. They're only delaying the inevitable. Making them suffer for your own happiness is one of the most cruel things they could do. That's not a caring love, that's a selfish love."

"God gave you life, and you have no right-"

"-No right?!" I shout, some of my internal anger releasing. "We as a society have many rights- human rights, the bill of rights- and you get human rights just for being human. And unless you do something so criminal and horrid, you have the right to live. And that's what life is- a _right__. _So saying you have the right to live but not the right to die is a contradiction."

"So you believe that we should just all commit suicide the moment life doesn't work out for us? That cooping skills don't even matter anymore?"

"That's not my point! I don't _love _suicide. In all honesty, it's one of the most heartbreaking things I could ever talk about. I don't think that just _anyone_ should commit suicide- only some people should. Like I've said before- having a terminal disease is a good reason. They could get rid of the pain and at least maintain some sense of dignity, knowing their life doesn't end by a disease. Or if somebody knew that nobody would be affected negatively. And maybe it's the people that should love them that are at fault. If you can't make a person you claim to love feel loved, then you obviously either don't care enough or just don't at all. Kids get beaten within inches of their lives by their parents. There are people cold, hungry, and tired living on the streets who will be looked down upon just because of the human nature of prejudice. They could have been purely unlucky. Why should people like you force him to live?!" I almost yell. Some of the anger I've been feeling dissipated, but I wasn't over yet.

Mr. Syme was in shock. No students have ever talked back like that. Not one of my classmates had their attention anywhere else. Some looked like they couldn't even fathom that I was standing up to the teacher, others looked like reality hit them.

"Ponyboy Curtis. You are in a whole lot of trouble, but since you obviously feel so strongly about this, answer me this: why is it that you believe people should if they really want to?"

Like I said before, I wasn't thinking before I spoke. "Because maybe my best friend wanted to, my other friend _did, _and I DID!" I could feel tears heat up my eyes, but they weren't spilling. It was time to show my greaser side and not cry at all. "I got to see my parents die, my older brothers give up their whole lives for me, my best friend die, and my other friend kill himself! But none of you will even give a damn just because we're all greasers. It took many people I loved to show me why I want to carry on and live, and why people want to. And the worst part: people I don't even _know _are going through so much more than me, and people they don't know will hate them for trying to find peace that doesn't exist here. How about you try to be the person that makes people want to live instead of being the person that sneers when they do commit suicide?!"

I was surprised Mr. Syme didn't flip his podium over. I didn't mean to spill my guts about mom, dad, Johnny, and Dally, but I had to in a sense. I admit it; I wanted to kill myself so badly at one point. But there was one thing I did differently than the other people who have committed suicide that really shouldn't have: I thought of them. Yeah, I was Johnny's best friend, but I wasn't his _only _friend. And yes, I was in pain, but so was everyone else. I would only make it harder. Darry and Soda wouldn't come home to me, only to which one of them got off of work earlier. There would be one less buddy for Two-Bit to joke around with. One less kid for Steve to hate to love and love to hate. And it would be my fault. Depression I felt before didn't go away overnight, but it didn't consume me. I didn't forget about it, but I moved on. Because no matter how much I wished it could, life wouldn't stop for me.

It was deathly silent in the classroom. I could swear I saw a few kids crying. Mr. Syme's mouth was agape. I only then realized I was standing. I never thought I'd be so defensive on the topic of suicide.

Suicide. It's still a very haunting and morbid word that reaches a part of my soul I don't like feeling. It's a dark place with out a light. An absolution of the end that I wasn't ready for. What I feel is... in some cases, you have the absolute right to die. In others, it's not the best choice. But the thing is, those two previous statements contradict each other. Because a while ago, I stated that if you have the right to live, you have the right to die. And that's not exclusive to anyone. So should anyone be allowed to kill themselves?

Mr. Syme spoke up: "I-I... I don't know what to say, Ponyboy."

I sat back down. "You don't have to say anything. I don't believe you."

He was taken aback. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't think you trust in my self-righteous suicide."

He had a puzzled look on his face. "But I thought you said you didn't want to die anymore."

"I don't. But it's true. I don't think any of you do. That's what you think when you want to die, but others will look down on you. They don't trust in it. On many levels, I don't expect them to. But they don't trust it because they don't understand it." I looked over at a picture Mr. Syme's kid drew for him he had taped to his desk. It had an angel on it. "You know, it breaks my heart when angels deserve to die."

"Excuse me?"

I continued looking at the angel. "There are good people with bad luck. Really good people. "Deserve" is not a vengeful word like, "You're bad you _deserve _it," to deserve means to be owed. Some people deserve do die, whether they've murdered somebody, or life has been just plain terrible. Some could just be hiding it so people won't see their pain. Some get caught, and they lie. Some want to get caught. That to me isn't really suicidal. And I don't believe in suicide "attempts". As cruel as it sounds, if you really wanted to die, you could do it. Like when people cut themselves. They do it horizontally. They just need to do it vertically once on their forearm. And deep. You can't be saved. People will say "it hurt too much, so I stopped. But then I tried again." No. If life's been that hard on you, you can do it. To wrap it all up: If somebody wants to kill their self, I would try to talk to them, but I ultimately can't stop them. It's not my life to decide for, no matter how morally ill that seems. I just don't think we have that kind of judgment over other people, just ourselves."

Nobody dared to talk. It was silent for a good minute before the bell for the end of the day rang. Everyone got their books and left, whispering to each other about what happened. I went up to Mr. Syme to get my slip. He handed it to me while hanging his head, not being able to look at me. I think this is the most I've rocked his mind since I wrote that theme. To be honest, I thought I could never top that, and I'm not even sure if I did. I left without saying anything. I saw that I had detention, so I went to the room I was assigned. He forgot to give me work to do, so I grabbed some scrap paper and started writing. This is what I came up with before I left:

Wake up  
Grab a brush and put a little makeup  
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup  
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?  
Here you go create another fable  
You wanted to  
Grab a brush and put a little makeup  
You wanted to  
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup  
You wanted to  
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?  
You wanted to  
I don't think you trust  
In, my, self righteous suicide  
I, cry, when angels deserve to die, DIE  
Wake up  
Grab a brush and put a little makeup  
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup  
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?  
Here you go create another fable  
You wanted to  
Grab a brush and put a little makeup  
You wanted to  
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup  
You wanted to  
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?  
You wanted to  
I don't think you trust  
In, my, self righteous suicide  
I, cry, when angels deserve to die  
In, my, self righteous suicide  
I, cry, when angels deserve to die  
Father, father, father, father  
Father into your hands, I commend my spirit  
Father into your hands  
why have you forsaken me  
In your eyes forsaken me  
In your thoughts forsaken me  
In your heart forsaken, me oh  
Trust in my self righteous suicide  
I, cry, when angels deserve to die  
In my self righteous suicide  
I, cry, when angels deserve to die

I didn't know what to call it, so I decided the first thing that came to mind would be it. My stomach growled, and the first thing I thought of was a nice bowl of chop suey. It took me a second to realize that was going to be the title of what I just wrote. I guess you could call it a song, but I think of it more as a poem since I don't have a melody or any kind of music for it.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And that's how I ended up here, not minding the fact that I'm waiting to be yelled at. Darry isn't going to know that I said everything I said, since the slip only says that I refused to cooperate with the teacher's instructions. I'll simply say it was a debate the he was losing. Of course, Darry will go on about respecting your superiors even if you disagree, but that's okay. I was content with knowing that someone heard what I had to say about a self-righteous suicide.

**A/N: Well, I don't own the lyrics to Chop Suey! by System of a Down, first of all (BTW This is my firt author's note). Many people have different opinions. I don't believe you should be branded as wrong for what you believe about it. And if you ask if this reflects on my opinions on suicide, I will neither admit or deny it. If you really want to, you can yell at me if you feel differently. That's the price you pay when you post something contreversial. Have a good day :)**


End file.
